A Feather Falling
by anne-writes
Summary: Severus and Hermione become friends, of sorts, after she saves his life. But his awkward formality and her obliviousness lead to some miscommunication. Can their complicated friendship turn into something more, despite all their shortcomings? NEW CHAP 7!
1. Chapter 1

**_You can make a plan  
__Carve it into stone  
__Like a feather falling  
__It is still unknown._**

_Arc of Time (Time Code), by Bright Eyes_

**::::::**

She drummed her fingers against the countertop, standing awkwardly in the kitchen. Her kitchen. Hermione hadn't expected her first few hours in her new cottage to feel so… uncomfortable. Daunting, even. What was she supposed to do now? Moving in had taken less than an hour, but had left her a bit drained after using so much magic so quickly.

_I could take a nap, I suppose,_ she mused. But she had never really been one for nodding off in the middle of the day, not when there was sunlight and things that could be done.

_I could read, then. Always a good backup plan._

Decided, she went to her (_new_) bookshelf in her (_new_) sitting room, and settled onto her (_new_) sofa. Frowning, she stood, walked over to her (_NEW_) window seat and perched there instead, looking around the room.

Hermione had planned this all out so precisely, had spent over a year formulating this course and working toward this goal. She had saved up, looked hard for the perfect place, and bought this cottage, determined to make it her home. Her _home_. She had split up with Ronald, and had been living in Number 12 Grimmauld Place with Harry and Ginny for the past three years. But it was time to move on. She had just achieved her Mastery in Arithmancy, her second, her first being in Transfiguration. She was working diligently on her current project, attempting to rewrite some of the simpler but more difficult spells so that they would be more straightforward to use. It was tricky going.

As Hermione was pondering the letdown that her little house was turning out to be, a sharp knock sounded at the door. She wasn't sure at first, since whoever it was had only knocked once and it could perhaps have been a tree branch or some such, but as she hesitated the person rapped again, just once.

She straightened her jumper and headed over to the door, somewhat more excited now that there was someone here to admire her cottage, but as she opened the door that excitement fizzled out.

Severus Snape was standing on her porch, and he would certainly not be up for any sort of house tour. He was certainly not the simpering sort.

Hermione forced a smile. "Severus, come in."

He stepped past her, looking appraisingly about the room, before peering through each of the doorways and down the hall. Satisfied that he had examined his surroundings satisfactorily, he stood stiffly next to one of her dining room chairs, and looked at her expectantly.

She sighed. Of course, she was not without reason. Severus Snape was obviously here to be difficult.

"Mistress Granger," he said formally, waiting for her to sit before he sat as well. She dropped unceremoniously into the chair nearest him, before placing her elbow on the table and leaning her chin in her hand.

"Severus, to what do I owe this honour?" she inquired, careful to keep the overtly rude tones from her voice.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Astair you're there and I'm still here  
I swear I'm so confused  
The signs you wear are making me  
Feel like I'm the one to lose_**

_Astair, by Matt Costa_

**:::::**

Hermione and Severus had become more closely acquainted after the Final Battle. She had been instrumental in healing his wounds from Nagini, coming up with a battery of treatments that she then brewed impeccably, successfully bringing him back to a clean bill of health.

They hadn't grown close from their time spent together in the hospital. In fact, Severus seemed even more uptight around her than others, perhaps since she had seen him at his most vulnerable. But, having apparently earned his trust, he also treated her with an almost… sweetness. He held the door for her, listened to her drone on about her latest breakthrough in her work, and dutifully read the books she recommended to him.

His formality irritated her, though. She considered him one of her closer friends, and he still insisted on greeting her by her formal title when he saw her (though in conversations, he would slip into "_Hermione_," and when he was irritated the occasional "_Miss Granger!"_ slipped out.) She wanted him to be comfortable with her as she was with him. She wanted him to trust her implicitly, enough to fully relax around her, when they were alone. But he didn't. So she had been snappish lately, more curt than necessary, calling him "_Master Snape"_ more often than not. And he'd just pulled back further. It was infuriating.


	3. Chapter 3

**_I can't stand to think about  
A heart so big it hurts like hell.  
Oh my God, I gave my best,  
But for three whole years to end like this..._**

_The First Single, by the Format_

**::::::**

"Mistress Granger," Severus began, but she glared at him, curls hanging loose about her face, and shook her head warningly.

"Hermione," he amended, though he looked slightly ill as he said it.

"Yes?" she asked, encouragingly. Perhaps a bit too sarcastically, because he shot her a fierce frown, and she quickly pulled her hands into her lap and sat up straighter. He could still make her flinch when reprimanded.

Severus cleared his throat, looking down at the carpet. Pulling something out of some hidden pocket, he palmed it and stood awkwardly. She looked up at him, openly confused now. This had to be their strangest encounter yet, and that was certainly saying something, because she had seen the man at least once a week for the past two years, and no moment she spent with Severus Snape could ever be classified as anything _but_ 'strange.'

Hermione snapped her attention back to the man before her when she realized he was kneeling on one knee in front of her, as she sat in her (_new_) dining room chair in old blue jeans.

"…Severus?" she asked, worrying for his health at this point. She had absolutely no idea what was going on, unless kneeling was some new even _more_ formal way of greeting someone. He did seem to be becoming absurdly restrained lately, she wouldn't put it past him.

"Hermione," he said, looking up at her with his dark eyes, searching hers. She cocked her head to the side.

"Yes?" she prodded.

He took a deep breath. "Would you do me the… ah, honour of becoming my… wife?"

Her jaw dropped.

"_What_?"


	4. Chapter 4

**_And I don't want the world to see me,  
Cause I don't think that they'd understand.  
When everything's made to be broken,  
I just want you to know who I am. _**

_Iris, by the Goo Goo Dolls_

**:::::**

Severus stood quickly, as it appeared Hermione's jaw didn't seem to plan on shutting anytime soon.

"Well… ah. What were you expecting?" he snapped.

She goggled up at him. "I wasn't expecting… _What? _You want me to _marry _you?"

He glowered at her, shoving the ring box back into his pocket. "Nevermind, have a nice day," he barked, storming out the door.

"Wait, Severus Snape! You can't just come in here and say that and then _leave!_" she screeched, running to catch him as he descended the front steps. He didn't turn around until she grabbed his elbow, and as he spun to face her he shook her off forcefully. She stood on the top step, looking down at him as he scowled on the path below her.

_What the hell is going on?_

"Mistress Granger, if you weren't open to furthering our relationship you could have done me the courtesy of telling me so before I expended obscene amounts time and energy in courting you," he barked.

Hermione wasn't sure her jaw would remain attached to her face much longer. "_Courting_ me? You haven't been _courting_ me!"

"I most _certainly_ have been! For well over a year now!" he yelled, losing his composure for once.

She couldn't even respond, just ran her hands through her hair and looked down at him.

"Is this a joke?" she asked incredulously.

_Apparently not,_ she thought, as he turned an even more unattractive shade of red and turned to leave.

"Wait, wait wait, just stay for a minute," she said quickly, sitting down on the step with a _thump_. He turned back to her slowly, hands clenched.

"I'm not making fun of you. I honestly didn't know you were courting me," she explained, resting her head in her hands and looking down at the steps below her.

"You must be joking. I've been absolutely _overt_ in my intentions!" he snapped.

She glanced up, and he continued.

"I've escorted you to every ball at the Ministry. I've accompanied you to dinner with your dimwit friends with obscene frequency, we've spent so much time reading together and discussing your work. You've had me over for tea almost once a week!" his voice rising until he was positively yelling at her.

"How in the hell does that constitute _courting_ me?"

"It's the exact definition of courting!" he yelled.

"According to _whom_?" she managed to yelp out.

He rubbed his face. "According to _Briarwood's Etiquette_! The bookstore clerk said it was the proper way to do it," he said, voice suddenly softer and sounding very, very tired.

"You mean Mr. Franklin, at _Rare and Interesting Books_?" she asked. When he nodded, she sighed. "Severus, he is at least 170 years old!"

He coughed. "He seemed to know what he was talking about."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. This whole thing was so absurd that she couldn't even wrap her mind around it. She was laughing so hard that it took her a minute to notice he had turned and was leaving again.

"Severus! Wait!" she called, still laughing.

"I am not going to stand around and be laughed at," he replied coldly, sounding almost… hurt?

"No, I'm not laughing at you, I promise. Just this whole thing," she said, still giggling. "Come in for some tea. I want to figure out what the hell is going on."

Still glowering, he came and stormed past her into the house. She laughed again to note that he hadn't stopped to hold the door for her.

_Well, this is interesting._


	5. Chapter 5

_**Stumbling through the dark with a broken heart,  
**__**All alone at it once again,  
**__**Seeping in like a feeling  
**__**You haven't felt since way back when.**_

_I Found Away, by Alkaline Trio_

**:::::**

When Hermione walked in, Severus was slumped like a petulant child on the couch in the sitting room.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked uncomfortably.

"_Preferably something stronger_," she heard him mutter, before he saying obnoxiously loudly, "yes, please."

Rubbing the back of her neck, she headed to the kitchen, and set about making the tea. _Well, this is certainly a nice christening for my new house_.

Finished, she brought the two steaming mugs out, handing him his tea (_black_) and holding hers between both hands as she sat on the opposite end of the couch and turned to face him. The couch wasn't that big, so as she pulled her knee up onto the couch it was brushing his, causing him to look distinctly uncomfortable and somewhat ill.

She sighed.

"So you've been courting me for over a year?" she asked resignedly.

"Apparently I have not been courting you at all," Severus growled, draining half of his mug before setting it forcefully on the coffee table.

"I mean, you've wanted to marry me for over a year?" she asked.

"At first I wanted to see if we'd suit. I hadn't _decided_ anything," he mumbled, intently studying the arm of the sofa.

"But now you've decided… that we would?" she prodded. He nodded curtly.

"And you brought me a ring?" she asked. This was so overwhelming.

He looked up at her. "You don't need to make this any more embarrassing than it already is. Please just let me go."

Hermione cocked her head. "Severus, this is catching me completely off-guard. You have to be patient. I have to process. I thought you didn't even want to be friends with me; you've been so formal and strange lately. Sometimes when we're together you look as though you're daydreaming about strangling me!"

Severus had shut his eyes as though trying to control himself, and a slow flush was creeping up his neck. "Trust me, that is not what I've been daydreaming about."

"Then wha—_oh!_" she suddenly sat up. He was watching her out of the corner of his eyes. She sat up straighter.

"Severus Snape, why didn't you _say_ something?" she yelped.

"What would I have said? '_Hermione, sorry to interrupt your dissertation, but I'd love to peel that blouse off with my teeth!_'"

With that, an intriguing throb went straight to her cunt, but he didn't notice, and stormed on.

"I wanted to do it properly! And not mess up! But I apparently did exactly that," he finished, resigned.

Hermione reached for his hand, which was fisted next to his (_lean, muscular_) thigh. He watched her warily and let her wrap her hands around his, but didn't move a muscle.

"_Severus_," she said. "I wish you had just _told_ me."

He looked at her now, openly. "You really think you wouldn't have laughed at me?" he asked incredulously.

She started to shake her head, but stopped. Maybe she would have. She had still been wrapped up in Ronald and her work, and had politely turned down every wizard that had asked her out.

"I wouldn't have laughed…" she said. "But I don't know if I would have said yes."

"Fan-fucking-tastic. Now that you've thoroughly denounced me, I'll just be taking my leave," he barked, jerking his hand away and standing.

"Severus! Stop being so skittish. I'm not laughing at you. Sit, please." When he didn't move, just glared down at her, she continued pleadingly. "_Please_."

He sat back down, stiffly again. She wasn't sure which she disliked more, stiff and formal Severus, or slumped and despondent Severus.

She traced a line down his wrist and to his palm. Reflexively, he relaxed his hand, and she ran her finger to his palm and traced the lines. Looking up at his face, his eyes were shut and he gulped visibly. The sight made her feel powerful, and gloriously feminine, and… aroused?

_Well that's even more intriguing_, her brain said, as her fingers continued to catalog the indents and calluses on his palm. _Maybe he wasn't so far off the mark after all_.


	6. Chapter 6

_**But it feels relaxed,  
**__**Let my hair uncurl.  
**__**Blush the way you'd feel  
**__**If you let me fall in on you.**_

_Midsize City Girl, by the Peter Nalick Group_

**:::::**

As Hermione's fingers began tracing back up his arm (his perfectly starched shirt sleeves had been rolled up due to the unseasonably warm March day), Severus relaxed against the back of the couch, his head falling back onto the cushion. She was almost startled to see this new, prone, susceptible version of Severus, completely vulnerable to her wandering fingers. But still, there was a thrum of something dangerous beneath his skin, as though if he needed to he could have her at wandpoint within seconds.

She hadn't realized she was leaning closer until she pulled her legs up and under her, kneeling next to him, knees pressed against his side. Her left hand lying along the back of the couch, supporting her as she leaned over him, her right hand abandoned his and began tracing the outline of his Adam's apple the curve of his neck, the way his throat dipped to meet his collarbone. His breaths shallowed as she ran her fingers along the underside of his jaw and drew circles behind his ear before following the planes of his face, examining each indent and crease.

Thoroughly captivated by this strange and interesting turn her day had taken, she ran her tongue over her lips and met Severus' mouth with her own.

_Who would have thought_, her oddly complacent mind mused.

As her lips brushed his, his hands came up and wrapped around her hips, his mouth moving slowly against hers. She felt his uncertainty, the hesitation in his movements, but that dangerous _something_ that hovered beneath his (_soft, warm_) skin was still there.

When she deepened the kiss, licking the inside of his lower lip and delving her tongue in to meet his, he groaned lowly. His hands tightened on her and he pulled her unceremoniously into his lap. She accidentally kicked his shin as she straddled him, but he ignored it and kept kissing her. Really _kissing_ her.

Losing track of all the thoughts that had been running through her head about the day, and the past year, she ground herself closer to him, and moved her hands from where they were tangled in his hair and began unbuttoning his shirt hastily.

Severus pulled back and took a deep breath. Hermione watched him with half-lidded eyes, unable to stop herself from continuing to unbutton his shirt until she could run her hands over his chest.

"Hermione, wait, I—" he choked out. She leaned back, puzzled, hands falling to her sides.

"Yes?"

"I don't… I've never done… this before," he said hoarsely, flushing again.

_For someone so serious, who would have thought he'd blush so easily?_ ran through her mind, before she processed what he had said.

"You've not had sex before?" she asked, sounding perhaps too astonished and not entirely understanding.

Severus shook his head. "No, I have, I just… It's never meant anything. I don't know how to show you I care about you," he trailed off, eyes searching hers. "I don't want you to… not like it. Because it's important."

Hermione almost smiled, but held back. "I haven't ever, either. I think we'll figure it out," she replied. "Trial and error." With that, she leant forward and meeting his lips again. But he didn't respond, instead pushing her firmly back by the shoulders, a furious look on his flushed face.

"You don't have to lie to me," he said, angry.

She shook her head. "No, I'm not," she said, "I promise. It's never meant anything to me, either. Not really."

He paused, looking down at his bared chest, where her hand lay braced over his sternum, before looking back up at her.

"And this does?" he whispered. She nodded, almost imperceptibly. _Well, that's interesting._

"I think so," she said, more to herself than to him.

Her answer seemed to satisfy him because he pulled her mouth back down to his, and his hands pushed beneath her sweater. Pulling back, she raised her arms over her head, and he pushed both the cardigan and her t-shirt over her head and off at once. He trailed the fingers of his right hand from her shoulder along her collarbone to the hollow of her neck, seeming to study her body as if memorizing the sight. He then ran his fingers straight down between her breasts, before hooking a finger around the center of her bra and pulling her back into him.

He leaned forward so she could push his shirt down off of his shoulders, and she almost fell off his lap as he struggled to pull it free of his hands. She wound her arms around his waist tightly to hold on, and found herself press even more intimately against him. His hands made short work of her bra, throwing it aside and cupping her breasts in his hands.

"Wait," she managed to say as he took her mouth. "Bedroom."

Severus stood, depositing her on her feet and pulling her toward the hallway he had seen earlier. When he hesitated in front of the different doorways, she pushed him towards the furthest one, wrapping her free hand around his hip.

Inside, he kicked the door shut, turning back to her, eyes dark, and they barely managed to make it to the bed.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Both hands,  
**__**Please use both hands;  
**__**Oh, no, don't close your eyes,  
**__**I am writing graffiti on your body.**_

_Both Hands, by Ani DiFranco_

**:::::**

They stood, hungrily devouring one another's mouths and bodies, stumbling as they struggled to remove their clothing.

They finally wound up on the bed, and Hermione quickly pulled Severus' mouth down to hers. He kissed her back, covering her body with his. Supporting himself with one arm, he ran his hand down her body, causing her to arch up into him. She matched his actions, smoothing her hands down over the scars on his back and running her nails up his sides. He bit her neck, then sucked gently to ease the sting, and ran his tongue along her collarbone. Her skin tasted like salt, and vanilla, and maybe a trace of raspberries. As his tongue pressed into the hollow of her neck she exhaled sharply bringing her hand between them to guide him into her.

Severus pulled back to look at her face carefully, studying her with dark eyes. His lips were swollen and his black hair mussed, and she reveled in the feeling that she had caused him to look so disheveled, so out-of-character. He thrust hard into her, still watching her reaction. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she met him evenly with every hard thrust. His head dropped, and he pressed his open mouth to the crook of her neck, pulling her leg up over his elbow, pounding into her. She realized that he had finally let himself go, that she was finally seeing (and feeling) the _real_ Severus. What he had been hiding behind his buttons and tailored jackets for so long. The feeling was exhilarating, the idea that _she_ had broken through his scaly armour, had caused him to feel safe enough around her to let those shields drop, was dizzying. Though, to be fair, she couldn't really claim any thoughts to be dizzying when it seemed clear that what he was doing to her body was to blame.

As if he knew her mind was wandering, he pulled his arm from holding her leg so he could cup her chin and kiss her again, bruising, and she quickly lost track of everything except the feel of him, of _them_. Of him holding her.

She was close, so close, and he realized it almost as soon as she did, shifting so that when he buried himself his hip was hitting her in such a _perfect_ way. She shattered in seconds, and his thrusts grew jerky and uncontrolled. She watched his face, a sheen of sweat causing strands of his long, dark hair to cling to his flushed cheeks, his eyes shut tightly as he finished with a shout. He rode it out, pulling her closer as his jerky movements slowed. Collapsing beside her, he rolled so she lay splayed across his chest.

Sticky and sweaty, they lay together as their breathing slowed. When she shivered, he sat up and pulled the blanket from under them, covering them with it as he drew her close.

"Was that good for you?" he whispered, nervousness knitting his brow together. His fingers dug into her side slightly, as though he were bracing himself for the worst.

She tilted her head up and kissed him, attempting to calm his uneasiness. She felt the stiffness almost leave his body, but it still lingered, a tenseness nothing like the predatory thrum she had felt earlier.

"Yes," she whispered. He pressed his lips to her temple, silent.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Cause everything, it must belong somewhere,_**  
**_Just like the gold around her finger or the silver in his hair._**  
**_Yeah, everything, it must belong somewhere;_**  
_**I know that now, that's why I'm staying here**._

_Everything Must Belong Somewhere, by Bright Eyes_

**:::::**

After, Hermione lay on her back looking up at the ceiling. Severus was lying on his side, his left leg slung over her hips, and an arm across her chest, face pressed against her hair. She was tracing patterns on the knee lying on her hip with the tips of her fingers, reveling in the feeling of his large hand wrapped around her ribs, his thigh pressed possessively against her lower abdomen.

She looked sideways at him, and, certain that he was asleep, carefully untangled herself from his body. The instant she stepped out of bed her body was craving him again, begging her to curl back into bed with the warm man that was sleeping there. But she was thirsty, and felt too restless to lie still any longer. Pulling on a pair of underwear and a t-shirt, she padded quietly to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

The water had just begun to boil (she liked doing it the Muggle way, she found it relaxing) and she was pouring it into the teapot when she heard the floorboards in the hallway creak. She spun around to see a half-dressed Snape walking quietly towards the door.

"Where are you going?" she asked, much more high-pitched than she would have liked.

Severus looked startled that she had noticed him, but stood up straight and faced her. "I thought it was… I thought I should go," he said, averting his gaze. "I wasn't sure if you wanted me to stay."

"No, I want you to stay," she replied quickly. "I was just making some tea. I thought you were asleep, and I couldn't manage to nod off."

He hesitated, but walked over to her, setting his bunched-up shirt on the counter.

"Er… did you want some tea? It's herbal, since it's so late, and I know you don't like it…"

He shook his head, watching her finish making her cup. She looked up at him for a moment, then turned and led him back to her bedroom.

They sat at the foot of the bed in silence, thighs almost touching as she sipped her tea. She was acutely aware of the closeness of his bare torso, and how he studied the floorboards intently.

When she had finished the mug, she stood, and he quickly followed suit. Setting her cup on the dresser she motioned toward the bed awkwardly. "Do you… ah… want to maybe spend the night?"

He nodded again, ever silent.

"Okay, well, then," she said, before walking around and sliding under the covers. She looked up at him hesitantly, and he slowly unbuckled his belt, pulling his trousers off. He turned off the light and crawled into bed with her. She pulled the covers over him, and he carefully pulled her close, as though she were glass and he was a clumsy schoolboy.

_Well, this is awkward._

"I liked how you held me before," she whispered. She felt him relax somewhat, and he wrapped his arms around her and wound his leg around hers. She curled into his body, wrapping an arm around his waist and laying her head on his shoulder. The delicious smell of him, the musky scent of his body overlaid with pine needles and sweet cinnamon, filled her nostrils.

They fell asleep like that, her head resting on his chest, wrapped up in each other.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Every morning there's a heartache hanging  
****From the corner of my girlfriend's four-post bed;  
****I know it's not mine,  
****And I know she thinks she loves me,  
****But I never can believe what she said.**_

_Every Morning, by Sugar Ray_

**:::::**

Hermione came out of sleep slowly, groggy and somewhat disoriented. Her mouth was dry and sticky; her hair wild and impossibly messy, and her left arm was completely asleep, folded awkwardly under her body.

She shifted, attempting to stretch, before realizing her movements were hindered by a very large, very _male_ mass of messy black hair and warm skin.

She sat up on her elbows, lying on her stomach within the cage of wiry arms that held her. Looking towards the window with a squint, she saw that there it was light out but cloudy, casting a rather dim grey light over the room. Looking down again, she saw the hard planes of Severus' face, softened slightly in sleep. Extracting her right arm from between them, she reached out to brush the hair out of his face.

Just as she made contact with his cheek, his hand left her body and shot up to grab hers, his eyes flashing open, his body tensing.

"Good morning," she whispered, with a slight smile. He relaxed, releasing her hand, wrapping his arm back around her waist. She laid back down, pressing closer to him, letting him hold her.

"Good morning, wife," she heard him say almost inaudibly against her hair.

Hermione sat up. "Pardon me?" she said, slightly concerned. Besides having just had the best sex of her life, and being rather sure she wanted to stay entangled in her bed with him for a very long time, she wasn't quite at the marriage stage of this… relationship.

Severus sat up too, eyeing her warily. "Wife," he repeated, eyes guarded.

She sat up onto her knees. "I don't think that is an appropriate thing to jest about at all, Severus," she snapped. She couldn't believe he was being so glib about it, with the amount of skittishness about the whole subject the evening before.

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"I am hardly jesting. You accepted my suit."

"I did no such thing!" she practically shrieked.

"I proposed to you, and we have consummated our engagement! We are bound!" he shot back, furious.

"Excuse me? Bound by _what_?"

Hermione could feel the tension thrumming through her body, through his, as they sat together on her bed.

"Bound by marriage!" Severus retorted.

"We haven't been married!"

"Yes, we have been!" he growled. "Unless you have already repressed the memory of last night? I'm sorry you wish it hadn't happened, but it _has_, and we are married."

She gaped at him, her irritation forgotten, traded for open confusion. "What does last night have to do with being married?"

His anger dissipated as well, and his shoulders slumped slightly. "Do you not know how Wizarding marriage works?" he asked, sounding suddenly ill.

She shook her head. He shut his eyes.

"Oh, gods," he said softly.

"What?" she pressed, hands clenched upon her knees.

"When a wizard proposes to a witch, it opens a… sort of a channel of energy between them. And presumably, if she accepts, then they wed, and they… share a bed… on their wedding night. After being consummated, the marriage is forged. And it's permanent."

Her jaw swung loose on its hinges.

"We're 'forged'?" she said, voice high.

Severus nodded, rubbing at his still-shut eyes with the heels of his hands.

"Because it's primal magic, predating marriage ceremonies and focusing only on the creation of... for lack of a better term, a 'soul mate,' the only parts of the marriage that the magic recognizes are the proposition and the consummation."

Hermione was silent.

"I thought you knew that Wizarding marriages were different than Muggle marriages. And I thought you knew it was… binding. I thought you were… accepting my proposition," he said softly. "I thought you knew what this meant."

She stood, ran her hands through her hair, and walked out.


	10. Chapter 10

_**How I wish you could see the potential—  
**__**The potential of you and me;  
**__**It's like a book elegantly bound,  
**__**But in a language that you can't read just yet.**_

_I Will Possess Your Heart, by Death Cab For Cutie._

**:::::**

_So much for a peaceful first day_, Hermione thought wryly, slumped on the swinging bench on her porch. A marriage proposal, sleeping with Severus, a technical wedding… she was emotionally exhausted.

She hadn't meant to be so mean to him. She _knew_, deep down, that she would have said yes. In a week or a day or a month, she would have said yes. But she wanted the _option_. Her shotgun engagement with Ron had fallen apart rapidly, when she suddenly realized that although she had said yes, she couldn't go through with it.

But this explained why Ron had insisted it wasn't proper to sleep together until after their ceremony, and adamantly refused to do so, even though they had before.

She pushed at the boards of the porch with her feet, setting herself swinging before pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around them.

It was juvenile to be able to admit that she would have said yes if asked again, but was balking simply because she hadn't had the option. She knew that, but still, her irritation with herself and with Severus was running unchecked through her veins.

Hermione wanted to attribute her reluctant admittance of her willingness to marry him to the "forging," as he had called it, but that would be incorrect. She had been to Hogwarts almost as soon as Severus had left, and with much pleading, Ms. Pince allowed her to take out exactly three books on the intricacies of Wizarding marriage. She hadn't needed all three, but was determined to learn every facet of the bond that now existed between her and Severus. No more mistakes.

What she had learned was much less sinister than expected. She had thought, for some reason, that the magic would change her own emotions towards him, almost as if it were an eternal love potion. That wasn't true. The bond that had been created was something much less direct.

She could feel it, she was certain, hovering somewhere under her diaphragm. It was a sort of weight, pressing against her chest, making her feel indescribably full and at peace. It was as though she knew where he was, and how he was feeling, even though she couldn't put those answers into words if asked. The books had said that if he were in pain, or danger, she would be able to feel that something was wrong. The bond was about being one, being tied together, as though from that spot deep in her chest there was a thick rope that wound out and through huge amounts of space to connect to the same place in his. And there was a deep longing to be near him, to hold him. But maybe that was unrelated to the magic.

Hermione _wanted_ this. She knew she did. She just didn't want it so _fast._

Suddenly some of the ache inside her eased, and she glanced up just in time to see Severus appear in front of her fence with a sharp crack.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Tell me, am I right to think  
**__**That there could be nothing better  
**__**Than making you my bride  
**__**And slowly growing old together?**_

_Nothing Better, by the Postal Service._

**:::::**

Severus approached her porch quickly, his uncertainty masked by his long strides and grim expression of determination. He was carrying a large bundle of purple flowers, thankfully not roses, which she thought were overly romantic and too dramatic. No, he held a thick bundle of small purple flowers, leafy stems held together by a navy blue ribbon tied in a smart double knot.

He climbed the steps, hesitating for a moment, before closing the distance and thrusting the bunch at her. She accepted it, holding it carefully in her lap.

"May I sit?" he asked, looking down at her, eyes dark.

A quick nod on her part, before breaking the eye contact that had grown too intense for her liking and looking back out at the street, and he sat, elbows resting on his knees as he looked down at the pile of books on the floor, reading the titles carefully before leaning back and following her gaze out to the road.

"I am truly sorry," he said softly. "I never wanted to trap you into this."

She nodded, glancing down at his hands, folded tightly in his lap.

She leaned back too. "No I… I know. I mean… it makes sense. The way the magic works. And I knew what sleeping with you meant; I wasn't just going to toy around with you. I wanted forever. I just didn't expect it to be so _real_. It scared me."

His face softened slightly, the Severus Snape version of looking astonished.

She reached out a hand and wrapped it around his large one, but didn't move any closer.

"I just need to think, okay? Be alone for a little. This is all so fast, I'm losing track of myself. I need to… I need to be by myself for awhile and breathe."

He nodded, pulling his hand away and standing slowly. He started to walk away, but paused, and turned back, returning. Leaning low over her, one hand braced on the armrest and the other pushing into her hair, he pressed his lips to hers, searching for an answer. She kissed him back, opening her lips slightly, pulling his lip between hers and sucking softly, but not deepening the kiss any further.

With one last, lingering brush, he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against hers, his left hand abandoning her hair and running down her neck lightly.

"I'm sorry about the heaviness. I don't mean to inflict that on you," she whispered, eyes searching his.

"I've ached for you for a long time. I can wait awhile longer," he said softly, pressing his lips to hers again once more.

Without another word, he stood, held her gaze for a moment, and left, Apparating as he passed the front gate.

She felt as well as saw him leave, felt the distance press down on her chest again. And she wanted him back more than she had ever wanted anything.


End file.
